After The Credits Roll
by PandasInSpades
Summary: Just an idea I had after watching 'Lady Heather's Box'. My take on what could have happened after the episode ended. C/S.


**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing at all. I receive no monetary gain from writing, just happy feels. All characters are property of their respective owners.**

 **That being said, this was originally just going to be some pure smut, but somehow everything I write always seems to come out a little darker than intended. Hope you still enjoy anyway! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

The house is quiet when I enter. It's dark, save for the nightlight above the kitchen sink, and I call out to the empty air.

"Cat? Lindsay?" The words echo in the silence. I try again, still receiving no reply. I pull a beer from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table, bending the cap between my thumb and forefinger before tossing it into the trash can. I know Catherine's pissed. She didn't say another word to me after our interaction in the lab, and her voice keeps haunting me, skipping like a broken record in my brain.

" _What a great bedtime story for my daughter."_

I tried. I did what I could. I wanted to bring down the bad guy, be the knight riding in on a white horse to save the day, but my armor's rusty. My lance is broken, and my steed is lame. I take a swig from the bottle, downing half of it before I come up for air. Fuck that pink haired bitch.

Now, Eddie's lying in the morgue, stiff and cold, never going to see his daughter again, his life snuffed out like a candle. I never cared for the man myself. I had more than one run in with him when Catherine and I first started seeing each other. I wished too many times that he'd stay out of our lives. I wished that he'd put down the battleaxe, at least for Lindsay's sake. I never wished for him to die.

I finish off the bottle and head upstairs, the sound of crying stopping me at the landing. My heart crumbles to ash inside my chest, and I stand still for what seems like hours, listening to the sobs, the frustration, the disappointment. I crack Lindsay's bedroom door, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps, safe in dreams. If I could give her justice, I would. If I could wrap it up with ribbons and bows, it'd be hers. I'd do anything for her, for Cat - my girls.

I slink into our bedroom, the guilt seeping out of my pores, stinking up the area with my shame. Catherine's body heaves with sobs, her back to me, head buried in her pillow. I take my boots off and climb into the bed, my hand reaching out to her shaking form. She yanks away from me, angling to a sitting position, tissues clutched between white knuckles.

"Leave me alone, Sara." Her words are a slap across my face, only cementing my failings.

"Cat, please. Can we just talk?" Her eyes are hard and unforgiving, grief clouding her irises, dulling the usually brilliant blue.

"There's nothing to talk about. Eddie's dead. You couldn't close the case. My daughter lost her father."

"That's not fair. You know it's not." She stares at me, and I can't tell what she's thinking, where she's at right now. She topples forward into me, a new round of tears snaking down her cheeks. She mumbles into my chest between sobs, her breathing patchy and erratic.

"What do I do? What do I tell her?" I don't know if she wants an answer, or if she's just speaking her thoughts out loud, but I wrap one arm around her shoulders and use my free hand to stroke her head as I respond.

"You tell her that her daddy loved her. That he never went a day without being proud of her. That he'll always be watching over her. You tell her that you love her. That I love her." She pulls herself from my embrace, eyes boring into my own, studying me like a piece of evidence. I must have said the wrong thing.

I'm about to break our contact, when her hands find my face, her lips crashing against mine in a violent kiss. In one fluid movement, she straddles me, her fingers tangling in my hair, her teeth nipping along my jawline and down my neck. I feel the burn between my thighs, my body responding to her like it always has - with a mind of its own. My head is telling me I should stop her, that we should talk, but her hands are under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head as her mouth burns shapes across my chest, nimble hands wrapping around to unsnap my bra when the last of my resolve breaks, and I give in.

I flip our positions, pinning her against the bed. I hover above her, my arms on either side of her body, watching her chest rise and fall with heavy, lust filled breaths. Her eyes are cobalt - dangerous and wild, desperate with need, threatening to undo me.

"Drawer." Her words are more of a command than a request, and I hesitate, my mind trying again to win the battle over my desire as she fumbles with the button on my jeans, pulls the zipper down. She yanks the denim as far as she can and sits up, forcing me to stand, her gaze lingering on the brushed silver knob protruding from the bedside table before swiveling to rest on my face.

I turn from her, wriggling my pants the rest of the way off as I slide open the drawer. I've always thought of it more as a dark treasure chest filled with pain and pleasure, each of us represented well by the toys we favor. I know what she wants without asking, and step into the harness, the shaft bobbing as I adjust the straps.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. The image has always been one that made me feel aggressive and powerful, but tonight, I can't help but feel that I'm a substitute, that she's using me to fuck what's left of Eddie out of her, trying to fill the holes left by his death with pieces of me. My inner monologue is interrupted when I see her in the mirror - naked. She locks eyes with me through our reflections, pressing her body against my back, her arms wrapping around to my front, stroking me adeptly.

I whip around, pushing her back onto the bed, positioning myself on top of her, poised at her center. She bites her lip as her eyes close, and her head falls back as I enter her, slowly, deliberately taking my time, making her ache for more. Her moans fill the air as I increase my speed, her arms wrapping around my back, pulling me down so her mouth is next to my ear.

"Harder."

"Cat..."

"Harder. Please..." My hips comply before I do, and her hands slide down to my ass, her nails digging into flesh, urging me on, driving me wild as I thrust into her without abandon. Her hair splays out in all directions, little beads of sweat cascading down her forehead, lips parted in a gasp. She's so goddamn sexy it takes my breath away. Her chest is flushed, the red spreading up her neck and into her cheeks, and I feel like I'm dying and being born all at the same time. She's nothing and everything, the world and empty space, my pain and my love.

Her muscles start to tense, and her teeth sink into my shoulder, her legs wrapping around my waist, filling herself with all of me, holding me there as the first wave of climax explodes through her limbs. I revel in the feel of her body shaking beneath me, the sting of her nails drawing blood, the moans rumbling like a freight train through her chest. My name falls from her lips, and I tumble over the edge with her, my arms weak, my body lowering to rest on top of her own.

Our breathing begins to even as we hold each other, sticky skin gluing us together, swollen lips locking in salty kisses. I pull away from her gently, her back arching in protest at the sudden withdrawal, the last few tremors of release jolting like lightning bolts through her legs. As I stare down, her eyes closed and head tilted to the side, I wonder where she is, what thoughts are swimming in her lust filled brain, whose face is behind her eyelids.

I head to the bathroom while she floats in post coital bliss, and my mind tortures me with maybes. I practically tear the strap-on from my waist, tossing it in the trash can. If I'm being irrational, I don't care. It represents something else to me now, its meaning warped by her grief and my insecurity.

The water is hot when I step in the shower, and I wince as the beads needle the open cuts on my back, the water running pink as it swirls down the drain. I twist to let the water splash my face, not hearing the shower curtain open and close. Catherine's hands encircle my waist, and I tense, her grip tightening under my resistance.

"Hey..." Her voice is soft and concerned, and she puts pressure on my hips, forcing me to meet her gaze. She can see through me. She's always been able to somehow know my secrets, know the mysteries in my veins. She raises her hands, resting them on either side of my face. "What just happened - that was you and me. No one else." I lower my head, ashamed of my diffidence, my lack of faith in her, this beautiful woman who draws me into her arms, holds me close under steam.

"I threw it out." Her fingers travel up and down my spine, careful to avoid the angry welts crisscrossing my skin, the proof of her pleasure.

"That's okay. Gives us an excuse to go pick out something new. Something bigger." I loosen our embrace to look at her, eyes wide.

"I thought you said - "

"I changed my mind." She kisses me softly, her lips absorbing my shame and replacing it with acceptance and understanding - with love.

"Cat?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Always and forever?" Her eyes sparkle like diamonds or stars, brilliant points of light breaching the gap between us.

"Always and forever, Sara. Always and forever."


End file.
